James plopped onto the end of the dock between Lily and Ralph as the others crammed around. "It's a good idea, but it would take too long. We need a way to contact my parents-- and Uncle Ron and Hermione," he added, nodding toward Rose, "straight away. The longer we wait, the creepier things get."
"Filch is totally abusing his magic!" Lily interjected, turning to Zane. "He's a Squib bully with a big old wand now, thanks to Grudje! He's got everyone scared to death now that he can catch and punish them however he wants!" She rubbed her own hand unconsciously where an angry red welt still formed a scribble on her skin.
"Filch supercharged is definitely seriously bad news," Zane whistled in awe. "Who else has he dropped the hammer on?"
Ralph shifted. "Who knows? It's a new rule that no one discusses their punishment," he said, his voice hardening. "It's supposed to be a privacy thing, but all it does is make everyone's imagination run wild. And there's Filch, always roaming the halls, just looking for reasons to give out his dreaded detentions, banging around that cane of his so we never forget what he can do."
"The whole school is feeling it," James agreed.
There was a pause as wind tore over the dock, slapping the waves against its pilings. When it fell away, Lily spoke up, changing the subject. "I've been wondering about something."
"What's that?" Rose asked, looking aside.
"When that horrible watery woman showed up…" Lily said thoughtfully, still staring at the waves. "Right before she grabbed me, she swiped at Peeves. Remember?"
Scorpius nodded. "Serves the little imp right."
Lily looked around, addressing everyone at once. "Has anyone seen Peeves since?"
James frowned, thinking hard. He glanced at Ralph, then the rest. "No, I can't say that I have, actually. Any of you?"
Scorpius and Ralph shook their heads.
"I haven't either," Rose admitted. "You think it's actually possible? Could that watery woman have really…"
"You can't kill a poltergeist," Nastasia said matter-of-factly. "They aren't technically alive to begin with."
Lily looked earnestly around at the others again. "Either way, Peeves seems to be gone. If he really was, somehow, wiped out by that thing…"
"It's proof that something really happened." James nodded. "It isn't just our word anymore."
"But," Zane shook his head firmly, "who-- or what-- was that woman? Where did she come from? How did she get into Hogwarts?"
James looked incredulously at Zane. "It was the Lady of the Lake," he declared. "She travels through water. I've seen it myself! She can go through pipes, lakes, even oceans. As long as there are faucets, she can get in."
Rose was frowning hard at James as he spoke. Finally, she said, "Are you totally sure about that, James?"
"As sure as I can be," James admitted. "I never really saw her face. But it makes sense. Don't you think?"
Rose shrugged nervously. "Perhaps. I suppose."
Ralph peered at her. "Do you have another idea, Rose?"
She shrugged again, not meeting his gaze.
Scorpius rolled his eyes. "Oh, let's not beat about the bush. We're all thinking the same thing."
"What?" James demanded, his face reddening.
"Think about it for a moment, Potter," Scorpius prodded. "The water-woman called Lily by name. She said she had missed her. And then she tried to run off with her. Doesn't it remind you of something?"
James shook his head stubbornly. "No! I don't have the faintest idea what you're getting at--"
"Petra," Lily answered softly, realization dawning on her.
James looked down at his sister, speechless. Her eyes were wide and thoughtful, almost eerily calm. Finally she looked up at him. "Petra took me once before. Remember? She magicked me right out of the audience of the play during your second year. She was going to sacrifice me in the Chamber of Secrets, all to get her mother and father back."
"Lily, that wasn't really Petra," James insisted nervously. "She was under the influence of the last shred of Voldemort in her soul. But she fought back! She overcame it and saved you in the end."
"Maybe she regrets that now," Lily replied. "Maybe she wants another chance."
"That wasn't Petra," James declared, raising his voice. Suddenly, as if to counter his argument, a memory flooded into his mind: the eerie woman's voice that had called out to him from the darkness of First Night. His father, watching from the Marauder's Map, had witnessed the confrontation. It was Petra, son, he had said, Petra Morganstern…
"Petra's the Bloodline," Ralph admitted quietly. "She may have overcome Voldemort's voice in her head once, but it won't just go away. It's with her forever. Eventually, probably…" He shrugged, unwilling to go on.
"And she's powerful," Zane added gravely. "She and Izzy both. Together they were somehow even more powerful than Merlin. He couldn't stop them."
James felt like he was falling, dropping into the depths of the lake beneath him. Coldness seeped into him from all around. "Sister fates," he said to himself, thinking back to that horrible night. "That's what she called them. The Lady of the Lake, Judith… she called Petra and Izzy… her Sister Fates."
"You mean," Rose asked tentatively, "maybe they're all one and he same?"
"That doesn't make any sense at all," Ralph said, shaking his head.
But James wasn't so sure. Suddenly, he felt less sure than he ever had in his life.
"None of this changes anything," Zane said firmly. "Our first task is still to contact your parents somehow, get their help sorting all of this out."
"Don't you have another cousin here?" Nastasia piped up. "Maybe you could use him as a mule somehow, piggyback a secret message when he writes home. He wouldn't arouse any suspicion, right?"
"Louis certainly is a mule," Rose muttered. "And he's about as suspicious as a Flobberworm. But there's still the chance the secret note would be spotted when they inspect his letter. We need something we can be sure will get through."
James suddenly sat up as an idea struck him. "Something we can be sure will get through," he repeated, squinting thoughtfully. "Something that can't be intercepted..."
"You having a brainstorm over there, James?" Zane asked.
"I might be," James nodded. "But it'll be risky. Especially with Filch on the loose. And we'll need help."
Scorpius cocked his head sceptically. "Help from who?"
James glanced back at him, his thoughts racing. "The whole Night Quidditch league."
"Oh," Scorpius shrugged sarcastically. "Just that. I'll get right on it. You do know that Longbottom's shut us down entirely, right?"
"Rose, Ralph and I will talk to Professor Longbottom," James replied. "He can't be on board with Grudje and his new rules."
Rose narrowed her eyes. "Are you going to tell us this idea of yours?"
James shook his head. "Let me work out the details. Scorpius, just see if you can get all the teams out to the pitch tonight at midnight. Tell them it'll undermine Filch and Grudje. That should get them there. I'll explain everything then. Rose and Ralph, we need to corner Professor Longbottom tonight after dinner."
"What about me?" Lily asked shrilly, perking up next to him. "I want in on this!"
"Not this time, Little Sister," James said firmly. "And don't argue with me. If Filch punishes you one more time for something I do, I swear I'll curse him back to the stone age."
"And me alongside you," Ralph agreed fervently.
"I don't know what you've got in mind," Zane said, giving James the first real smile he had seen in weeks, "But I love it already. I woudn't miss it for all the mustard in New Amsterdam. For now, though, we'd better head back to the Aleron. Ex-Comm starts early today."
With the meeting nominally adjourned, the group began to make its way back to the castle. As they walked, a fine, cold rain began to spritz in the wind, stinging their faces like sand. James dropped to the rear of the group, falling in alongside Nastasia.
"You and me," he said under his breath, st
aring at the ground as he walked. "Tonight, after everything's over. You promised you'd tell me everything."
"I remember," she murmured tersely.
"I've kept my part of the bargain," he went on. "I haven't told anyone. You keep yours."
She glanced aside at him sharply, her eyes dark, nearly sparking with anger. Then, with eerie suddenness, her face changed. She leaned close to him in the stiffening rain, pressing her shoulder against his. She sighed deeply, shuddering as she let it out. Almost without thinking, James put an arm around her. She leant into it, letting him support her.
Zane, walking ahead of them, his shoulders hunched in the rain, fortunately did not notice.
"He's completely mad," James shook his head as he, Ralph and Rose climbed the stairs toward Professor Longbottom's quarters some hours later. "Experimental Communications wasn't meeting early at all. Zane just wanted to show us how he could gimmick the cabinets into taking us into the basements beneath Administration Hall."
"Did he?" Rose exclaimed in a hushed voice, obviously impressed. "How is that even possible? That's got to take some serious Technomancy!"
"Hah!" James scoffed. "You don't understand how Zombies think. Why use messy quantum stuff like Technomancy when you can just play a cheap trick?"
Ralph explained, "Zane just planted a Protean charm on the Alma Aleron cabinet, connecting it to a silver coin he carries in his pocket."
"So when he vanishes the coin to a new location," James added, smiling despite himself, "the Protean charm sends the Alma Aleron cabinet to the same place."
Rose squinted in concentration. "But that's… that's…" she shook her head in wonder. "That's bloody brilliant. Seriously. So if he sends the silver coin to the basements beneath Admin Hall, their cabinet goes there, too. We step into this side and pop out beneath the guarded areas at ground level. But doesn't anyone notice when their cabinet goes missing?"
"Nastasia came up with the fix for that one," Ralph replied. "They hid an old crate behind the cabinet and put a Visum Ineptio charm on it. When the cabinet disappears, everyone sees the crate as the missing cabinet, but with a sign nailed to the door."
James held up his hands as if framing a placard. "'Caution: rabid nargle inside.'"
Rose clucked her tongue. "They could have done better than that. Nargles don't get rabies. Still, that's dead brilliant. You didn't explore the basements yet, did you?"
"No," James said firmly. "No time. Besides, none of us were prepared."
"And double besides," Ralph interjected, "Those weren't like any basements I've ever seen. More like catacombs twenty feet high!"
"And triple besides," Rose said, stopping them outside Professor Longbottom's door. "When you do head down to find this Crone Laosa witch and learn what we can about the Morrigan Web, I am totally coming along."
Ralph boggled at her. "You have a bit of an unhealthy thing for danger, don't you, Rose?"
"I've never seen dwarf subterranean architecture before," she sniffed. "I'm a curious sort, that's all."
James stepped past her and rapped loudly on the door.
"No one is going anywhere," he whispered, "until we get word to our parents about what's going on here at Hogwarts. Let's hope we can get Professor Longbottom on board with us."
There was a shuffle from beyond the door, then the rattle of a lock. A moment later the door swung open, revealing the professor in his evening clothes: a pair of loose flannel slacks and vest over a white shirt, buttoned to the collar. He smiled down at the students, but James thought there was something else on the Professor's face. Was it worry? Nervousness?
"James," he said jovially, "Ralph, Rose. What can I do for you three?"
"Good evening, Professor," James greeted him. "We were hoping to talk to you. Er, in private. It's about… well, you know."
The professor laughed lightly, and again there was an uncharacteristic brittleness in it. "I'm afraid I don't know, in fact. But, er, certainly. Yes, do come in. I was just… well." He glanced back into his rooms as if expecting something to jump out at him. After a moment, he stepped stiffly aside and gestured for them to enter.
The Professor's sitting room was comfortably furnished and rather pleasantly cluttered. A huge painting of a sunlit greenhouse tended by a skinny monk dominated the wall over the fireplace. The monk dug enthusiastically in a bathtub-sized pot, occasionally swatting away the leafy tentacles of its inhabitant.
"Tea, perhaps?" Longbottom suggested, indicating a platter steaming happily with teapot and cups. "I was just about to have myself a nice after dinner spot. Happy to brew some more."
"No thanks, Professor," Rose said, seating herself on the sagging sofa. "We can't stay long. We just wanted to talk about everything that's going on, and ask for your help with something."
James opened his mouth to explain further, but the professor overrode him. "I can assure you, Miss Weasley," he said rather unnecessarily loudly. "As I have told you before, your O.W.L. studies are well in hand. You have years to memorize the notes I have provided in class. Just remember, Herbology is a lifetime study. I won't expect you to know everything after only a few short terms."
"That's," James said slowly, "not really what we came here to discuss, Professor. Scorpius told us everything, but don't worry, your secret is safe with us. Besides, Rose here says the Somnambulis isn't really illegal as much as it's just highly regulated."
"No fear there," Longbottom smiled, pouring hot water into his cup. "I've abandoned that particular pursuit. It was a hobby, but it ran its course. Interesting stuff, Somnambulis. It won't be on the test, however." He laughed lightly, unconvincingly.
"Yes," James nodded, frowning. Well, what we really want to talk to you about is Night--"
A loud clatter interrupted James, drowning his words as the tea platter crashed to the floor, shattering its freight of cups.
"Oh dear me," Longbottom said loudly, looking down at the broken cups, the teapot still steaming in his hand. "How clumsy of me." He glanced up at James, met his eyes, and then, slowly, shook his head, his eyes intense and full of warning.
"Here," Ralph said, getting out his chair and producing his oversized wand. "Let me help you with that, Professor."
With a few quick reparo charms, the tea set was reassembled and settled back onto the table. By the time the task was finished, everyone was standing, wands in hand, looking around rather uncomfortably.
"Well then," Longbottom nodded heartily. "Thank you very much for your assistance. How very clumsy of me indeed. I do hope I have addressed all of your, er, concerns. Do feel free to come by my quarters anytime. Anytime at all. Yes."
James, Ralph and Rose found themselves pressed toward the door. A moment later, they stood in the corridor outside, looking back at the professor in confusion.
"Thank you again for stopping by," Longbottom said, the smile fading from his face. "I will speak to you again tomorrow, I expect. At Herbology class. Perhaps you would be kind enough to stay afterward and help me re-pot some mandrakes. I know we aren't supposed to do it until later this term, but Professor Heretofore has asked me to expedite a few. They can be quite loud, you know. Quite noisy indeed."
He nodded meaningfully, the smile entirely gone from his face. Then, rather abruptly, he closed the door. It locked sharply.
"What," Rose said in a low voice, "was that all about?"
Ralph scratched his head, staring at the closed door. "None of us have Herbology tomorrow. Do we?"
"Come on," James sighed. "This whole place has gone nutters. Looks like we're on our own tonight after all."
Disgruntled and worried, the three made their way back toward the main stairs.
By midnight, the sky had finally cleared, revealing a bright sickle moon and a dusting of fine silvery stars. Early winter chill frosted the grass so that it crunched softly beneath James' feet as he trotted across the pitch, meeting the crowd already milling on the centre-line.
"What's the trunk doing here?" he asked in a harsh w
hisper, gesturing at the Quidditch trunk where it bucked in the moonlight.
"You asked for the entire Night Quidditch league," Scorpius answered tersely. "What are we going to do, play Winkles and Augers? The trunk goes wherever the league goes."
James ran a hand over his face. "We're not here to play Quidditch," he exclaimed. "We're here to send a message to my dad!"
A babble of hushed voices arose on the night air. James held up his hands, calling for attention. "Look, you're all as unhappy about the way things are going as I am, right? Filch running around like a one man Inquisition and Grudje shutting down all post in and out of the school!"
"He isn't shutting it down," Nolan Beetlebrick commented. "He's just keeping a tight rein on it."
"Yeah," Herman Potsdam shot back, "by bloody reading it all!"
Another rush of babbling voices arose in response to this.
"Quiet down, all of you," Zane called hoarsely, stepping alongside James. "Seriously, this is dictator stuff. Grudje would probably call this whole meeting a subversive plot and throw us all in the dungeon if he caught us."
Fiera Hutchins stabbed her hand into the air. "I don't know about the rest of you," she said, "but I thought this league was about Quidditch. I'm not looking to get rounded up by Filch. He's gone completely mad."
"Come on, James," Albus called, cupping his hands to his mouth. "What's the deal? The rest of the teachers won't let Filch get away with this forever. Grudje may be the headmaster, but McGonagall and Longbottom have faced worse. They can handle this better than we can."
At this, a tall figure stepped between James and Zane, making the gathered Night Quidditch players shrink back in alarm. James glanced up and was shocked to see Professor Longbottom, his face shadowed beneath a heavy cowl.
"You all should be back in your beds," he said firmly. "Night Quidditch has been disbanded. You have no idea what you've risked coming out here again."
"This is what we wanted to talk to you about earlier, Professor," James hissed. "I didn't want to do this behind your back. We wanted your help!"
Longbottom glanced down at him, his face grave beneath his cowl. "James, you more than anyone should understand the gravity of this sort of thing. If Filch discovers this…"
James Potter and the Morrigan Web Page 32